Your Job
by Mrs.Masters
Summary: Harley has to do everything for Joker... even if it means she has to get hurt in the process. Joker/Harley.


"Mista J

"Mista J?" Harley called, yawning. It was 4 a.m. and she hadn't seen or heard from him in hours. She knew Joker liked to stay up late planning sometimes, but even the clown prince of crime needed sleep.

And he certainly didn't need Harley's help to get it. She found him at his desk snoring away, his head resting on a pile of half-drawn plans. She smiled to herself; her puddin' looked so peaceful when he slept. She almost wanted to let him keep sleeping like that, just so she could watch him breathe. That and, somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew that if she did wake him up, he was likely to shove her out the door with a few knives flying after. If she was lucky!

She decided to take the risk. At least if he woke up in his own bed, there was a chance he'd be in a good enough mood to let her back in. As a last resort, she removed her hat and mask. Maybe he'd be tired enough to not recognize her.

"Mista J," she said again, shaking his shoulder. He woke with a start, nearly falling out of his chair. Harley grabbed his arm, but he jerked it away from her.

"Get off me, Harley, you-! Oh," Joker paused, looking sleepily at his blond assistant, who was now backing away, out of Joker's punching range. She stopped a few feet away, surprised that he hadn't tried to throw anything yet.

"Ah, Doctor Harleen Quinzel. Long time, no see!" Harley froze at the use of her old name. When was the last time she's been "Harleen Quinzel"?

She stared at him in confusion for a moment before realizing he was probably only half awake, if he was really awake at all. The fact that her blond hair had replaced her usual red and black hat probably helped too. At least her idea had worked: he really didn't recognize her at all.

In fact, he didn't seem to recognize anything at all. Joker looked around his own lair as if he'd forgotten where he was and how he got there.

"Mist-um, Joker?"

"This doesn't look like my usual Arkham cell. Did I get an upgrade?" He began laughing, apparently rather amused at the thought.

"No… um…" It took Harley a second to understand why he thought this was Arkham: Dr. Quinzel stuck in Arkham again. Right. "No, this is… a new meeting room. You nodded off at the end of our session though."

The former doctor tried to sound as professional as possible. Maybe if she kept up the act, she could make it through the night without being fatally injured.

"Come on, let's get you back to your room," she said softly, taking Joker's arm again. He didn't pull away again, and didn't resist as she lead him away from the desk.

"Do I have to?" the clown asked innocently, grinning at "Harleen" drowsily. A second later he yawned and shook his head. "I guess I am a little tired…"

Joker continued to look around curiously as they continued towards the bedroom. A few feet from the door, the shuffling clown looked up suddenly and smiled wickedly.

Harley barely had time to close her eyes before she was swung face first into the wall. She sank to her knees, wincing as she checked her bleeding nose.

"What the hell do you think you're doing!? Leading me down the hall like a child…" When he realized she wasn't listening, he grabbed a handful of her hair and pulled her around to face him. "Put your hat back on! The blond hair doesn't suit you anymore."

With that, he dropped her to the floor and walked away, cackling. Harley looked up just in time to have the bedroom door slammed in her face.

"Right, Mista J," she mumbled to the closed door. She stood slowly, thankful that her nose had stopped bleeding and probably wasn't broken. She retrieved her hat and mask from the desk, and put them back on before heading back to the bedroom.

Harley stopped and listened at the door. If he was awake and waiting for her, the rest of her probably wouldn't be as lucky as her nose. After a few seconds of silence from inside, she opened the door and peeked inside.

Joker was asleep again, lying on the bed facing the wall. He hadn't bothered to undress or even use a blanket. Naturally, Harley's concern for him pushed all thoughts of her own safety away. She came in quietly, shutting the door behind her, and walked over to the bed.

"Aw, Puddin'," she whispered, reaching for his jacket. "Don't ya at least want to take off your-"

"Don't you ever learn!?" yelled the Joker, turning over and taking hold of her arm. He pulled her down so their faces were pushed together and Harley had to suppress a since as her sore nose met his.

"That's your job, stupid."

Harley managed a squeal of delight as she was thrown onto the other side of the bed and Joker's lips were pressed rather forcefully to hers.


End file.
